


Ad Misericordiam

by apollothebidemiguy



Series: A Blend of White and Rainbow [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gangs, Named Reader, Other, Post-Pacifist Route, Racism against monsters, Romance, Swearing, like a lot of swearing, nonbinary reader, punk culture, reader uses they/them pronouns, slight gang violence, some resemblance of plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-31 23:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6491665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollothebidemiguy/pseuds/apollothebidemiguy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Truth be told, you’ve always been a bit of troublemaker - been arrested a few times, have a few tattoos you don’t remember getting. The establishment sucks, the law doesn’t do anything worthwhile. People, in general, are terrible. That’s just the way it is. </p><p>Then, a certain skeleton drags you (literally) into his life, and you’re forced to reconsider your outlook on, well, everything. You might not have led the most amazing or most honest existence, but...how can the world be so dim when people as bright as him exist?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Good morning starshine, the Earth says hello!”

Ughhhhhh. You ignore the person knocking on your bedroom door and flip over, covering your ears with your hands. Can’t they tell you're trying to sleep?

There’s a pause of a few seconds of blissful silence, before whoever is trying to get your attention rams into the door like a goddamn piledriver, making an awful noise like an explosion went off a few feet away from you. You practically jump out of your skin and tumble to the ground, cursing loudly.

“FUCK! What the hell do you want?”

They start laughing from the other side of the door like the smug fucking bastard they are. Christ that was unpleasant; you're surprised they didn't rip the thing off its hinges. “Sorry, Sheena,” they say through fits of giggles, “but I had to! We both know you don’t get up otherwise.”

“I’m gonna fucking kick your ass, Tommy,” you grumble, slowly picking yourself up. You glance at the clock on your bedside table and see it says 7:30. That’s too early. Why.

“Yeah, well, do it later. We’re out of bread and eggs and I’m hungry. Jaz is at her boyfriend’s and Nick has the morning shift today, so no one else can go to the store for me.”

“Screw you. You’ve got legs, why can’t you _walk._ ”

“Because you have a bike and don’t do shit, asshole.” You can practically hear him run his fingers through his hair in frustration. “C’mon, I’ll pay you back in a gram when you get back,” he supplies a little desperately.  

“ _Fine,_ ” you sigh dramatically, “but you better not be lying.” Free weed is not a joke.

“Thanks, Sheena!” Tommy chirps, ignoring your comment, before you hear him stomp off loudly down the hall. You rub your forehead, wincing slightly. What is with this guy and _loud_.

You sulk to your closet and grab the first things that match, glance at the mirror and decide _fuck it, I don’t need to shower, I’ll be out for like fourty minutes._ You pocket your phone and grab the keys to your bike before heading down the stairs. Tommy is sitting cross-legged on the couch, eating ramen out of a saucepan. For breakfast.

You give him a deadpan look and he shrugs.

“I told you, there’s no food. This is all I could find.”

“Are there no bowls, either, you fucking animal?”

“There are, I was just too lazy to grab one,” he replies nonchalantly, taking another forkful of his chicken flavored noodles. He didn’t drain them, either. Gross.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Tommy, this is like, the absolute lowest I have ever seen anyone stoop, _ever_.”

He rolls his eyes and reaches for the remote. “Just shut up and go to the damn store, _Sheena_.”

“I _am_.” You twirl the keychain with your finger for emphasis. “I’ll see you in an hour, you freaking weirdo.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

________________________

 

The grocery store is surprisingly busy for it being eight o’clock in the morning. Well, you guess since it’s the weekend, it makes more sense. But in any case, there’s way too many people and you don’t like it.

You assume since Tommy resorted to ramen there’s _literally nothing_ good in the house so you just grab a bunch of everything. You also decide to pick up some extra junk food in hopes he will make good on his promise.

There’s not much left on your list as you wheel the cart into one of the last few aisles in the back of the store. You hum to yourself as you grab a couple items, comparing prices. Hmm, five for five? That’s a pretty good deal.

“You stupid fucking subhuman filth! Get the fuck out of my store!”

Your head snaps to the direction of the screaming, and you drop the item you were holding loudly into your cart. Unpleasant memories flash through your head and you grimace. Oh, _hell no_. Not this shit again. You wouldn’t submit another innocent creature to this crap if you could help it. Grumbling, you stalk in the offending direction, hands curling up into fists, shopping declining on your list of priorities.

“You’re scaring the children! Why can’t you monsters keep to your own damn selves, huh?”

Anger bubbles forward thickly and you practically growl as the man comes in sight. The blue of his uniform is an ugly contrast to the red in his face; in fact, everything about him is just ugly, from the sneer on his lips to the way his eyes crinkle up as he yells. His unfortunate victim is standing dumbly, a frown etched deep into their features, the area around their...sockets? slightly darkening with tears.  

“You motherfucker!” You holler at the blue-clad jackass, the remaining space between you and the man quickly lessening. “Leave the poor guy alone! They’re just trying to shop like the rest of us!”

“This isn’t any of your fucking business!” the employee pivots to wag a finger at you, his features bursting into an even deeper shade of hideous crismon.

“It’s plenty of my business, buddy,” you seethe, power walking the remaining distance to glower inches from his face. “They're legal citizens now. You have no goddamn right to be acting this way.”

“I have a _right_ to telling it to leave when it’s scaring off my customers!”

“You know what’s scaring off the customers, bucko? Your racist bullshit.” You glance back at the monster - a skeleton, wearing the most ridiculous outfit you’ve ever seen - and they’re trembling. You shrug your shoulders and gesture loosely. “Look at this guy. Who the fuck finds Hello Kitty shades and hotpants intimidating?”

The man makes a frustrated sound in his throat and his face scrunches up so hard you think he’s about to burst a blood vessel. You snicker loudly at his appearance and he loses it, lunging at you, meaty hands aiming for your throat. That escalated quickly.

 _Great._ Now you have an excuse to punch him. You knee him in the balls, hard, and he convulses, but only manages to grip your neck harder. Sputtering, you kick him and scratch at his hands. Eventually he relents, slumping toward the floor in pain. You’re about to keep going, before arms encircle your middle and pick you up bridal style, and drag you off toward the store’s exit.

“Hey!” you protest, struggling, but whoever’s carrying you is hella strong. “I wasn’t done with him!” You kick at them hard, but they don’t budge. _Put me the fuck down!_ “Son of a-”

“I THINK THAT’S QUITE ENOUGH, HUMAN,” they answer, voice slightly shaking, and you realize it’s the monster you were standing up for. “THERE’S NO NEED FOR A VIOLENCE!”

 _Aw, shit._ Your blood freezes and you immediately stop fighting him, slumping basically like you just became dead weight. “Sorry. I uh, I didn’t hurt you or anything did I? Fuck.” You would CHECK him, but you'd rather not recall how to do that?

“NYEH HEH HEH! IT’D TAKE A LOT MORE THAN THAT TO HARM THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” He declares, somehow striking a pose while he’s carrying you. You cringe, because you know that isn’t true.

“Okay, uh, sure. You, um, okay though? That guy was raging on you super hard.”

“I'M FINE!” Papyrus - you assume that's his name - hesitates, before adding: “IT'S YOU I'M CONCERNED ABOUT!”

“Why are you concerned about _me_? I was winning!”

He takes a deep breath. “BECAUSE YOU WERE BEING REALLY AWFUL. I MEAN, THAT EMPLOYEE WAS BEING ESPECIALLY AWFUL, BUT THAT DOESN'T MAKE WHAT YOU DID LESS AWFUL! WELL, YOU WEREN'T AWFULLY AWFUL, BUT STILL. IT WAS ALL AWFUL. AND AWFUL DOESN'T SOUND LIKE A WORD ANYMORE.”

“Well, I don't feel bad about it. He deserved it,” you grumble.

Papyrus gaped at you, and his displeasure with your statement was practically palpable. “YOU CAN'T JUST - WHAT'S YOUR NAME, HUMAN?”

“Sheena?”

“SHEENA! YOU SHOULDN'T SAY THAT! NOBODY DESERVES VERBAL OR PHYSICAL ATTACK, NO MATTER HOW TERRIBLE THEY ARE!” Papyrus is visibly upset.

You roll your eyes and don't respond. You’ve met _plenty_ of people who deserve everything they get. Obviously, he hasn't seen the world like you have, but, you know, maybe that's a good thing.

You glance around at your surroundings and notice you are _waaay_ far from the store now, like a couple blocks. Jesus, this guy walks fast. How did you forget he's literally _carrying you off?_ “Yo, uh, Papyrus. Where exactly are you taking me?”

“MY HOUSE, TO TEACH YOU A VALUABLE LESSON! AND THEN PERHAPS MAKE YOU FOOD.” The skeleton glances down at you and smiles gently. “I THINK YOU REALLY NEED IT!”

A lesson? As in like, when the bad guy says to the protagonist _Hey, buddy, I'm gonna teach you a lesson_? You can't imagine much else happening to someone like you. “...am I being detained?”

“I LIKE TO SAY “I'M PUTTING YOU IN TIME-OUT”. IT'S LESS INTIMIDATING.”

“That usually doesn't work very well.” You think of all the nights you've spent in jail cells. “Trust me, I'd know.”

“NONSENSE. TIME-OUT IS THE MOST EFFECTIVE OF PUNISHMENTS! UNFORTUNATELY I NO LONGER HAVE A DEDICATED “CAPTURE-ZONE”, SO I’LL HAVE TO ARRANGE SOMETHING ELSE FOR YOU INSTEAD!”

Honestly, the guy seems really genuine, but everything he's saying just sounds terrible to you. “Teach you a lesson”? “Make you food"? “Capture-Zone"? Maybe it's the pessimism, but you feel like he's got some fucked up ulterior motive. He _is_ literally kidnapping you. It's like goddamn Cupcakes all over again or something.

“I mean.” You put a hand on your chin thoughtfully for a few seconds, for effect. “I guess that sounds good,” you say. But your head has already decided: he's gonna fucking kill you, and probably eat you. Maybe.

You didn’t wake up this morning in anticipation to _die._ No one does, though, you suppose, and you guess it doesn’t feel so terrible. Even if it might not matter anymore, you kinda feel bad about your abandoned shopping and your abandoned bike. Actually, mostly just your bike.  You pull out your phone with a little arm gymnastics and text Tommy.

 

 **To: thomas -** store is a no-go. I'm being kidnapped by a skeleton in a crop top. pls tell someone to grab my bike from the parking lot, there's a spare set of keys in my desk drawer

 

Almost immediately, there's a reply.

 

 **From: thomas -** Sheena what the fuck

 **From: thomas -** do I need to send help

 **To: thomas -** maybe some fashion advice @ the boy but otherwise we’re good

 **From: thomas -** oh har har. what did you even do ffs

 **To: thomas -** nothing important but here’s a serious question: do you think it’s possible for skeletons to have developed a taste for human flesh

 

You “sneakily” glance up at the monster’s face and narrow your eyes, scrutinizing his features. His teeth look to be about similar to a human’s - albeit larger and less in number - but without any muscle would there even be any power behind a bite? Do you really _want_ to know?  

 

 **From: thomas -** ummm no I don’t think they can eat? like

 **From: thomas -** Sheena you sure you’re ok that’s a concerning train of thought

 

Of course, geez, how stupid are you? Skeletons don’t have any fucking organs, why would he ever need to eat you? Shits and giggles?

Or maybe he could just cut you up and feed you to _his dog._ If he has one. Do monsters have pets? ‘Cuz some monsters look like big versions of pets. So that seems a little dehumanizing, er, demonsterizing? Is that even a word.

 

 **To: thomas -** I’m fine

 **To:** **thomas -** but if I die I need you to burn all my stuff

 **To:** **thomas -** and delete my internet history

 **To: thomas**   **-** I’ll text you when everything’s a little less crazy tho kk?

 

Your phone tells you _thomas is typing…_ for around a minute.

 

 **From: thomas -** You better

_______________________

 

You’re not quite sure why you’re bracing yourself, but you do it anyway as the two of you approach his house. It’s pretty cozy-looking; almost as big as yours. Which seems weird because you have like, five bedrooms. Maybe there’s a skeleton coven or something.

“HERE WE ARE!” Papyrus announces cheerfully, and nearly _bursts down the goddamn door holy fuck._ He practically tosses you on the couch next to another skeleton - hello other skeleton - and looks at you very sternly, pointing a finger at you like you’re a misbehaving child. Which you kinda are, so whatever.  

“THIS COUCH IS THE TIME-OUT STATION! YOU CANNOT LEAVE!” He uses the same expression on the monster next to you. “SANS! PLEASE WATCH THE HUMAN FOR ME WHILE I MAKE BRUNCH!”

“got it, bro,” they reply lazily, like this happens all the time, and honestly you wouldn’t be surprised if it did. Papyrus speeds off toward what you assume is the kitchen, which allows you to notice that _oh my God his shorts have “Hot Stuff” emblazoned on the butt._ None of this can possibly be real. You might just fucking cry.

The other skeleton - Sans? - gazes at you, and while he’s grinning, he seems unimpressed. “isn’t my brother cool?” he asks, but it isn’t really a _question_ , it’s more like a statement, and actually you feel vaguely threatened.

“...yeah,” you reply, not dishonest. “Does he, uh, always dress like that?”

“do you always dress like _that_?”

You glance down at your outfit - distressed skinny jeans, leather jacket, a band t-shirt, colored Vans, and your favourite studded belt - and shrug. “Touché.”

“how many times have you been arrested, buddy?”

 _Oh, get off my dick, for fuck’s sake, just ‘cuz I’m fucking punk._ This guy seems like a real drag. You raise an eyebrow at him, unamused, bring both your closed fists up to your chest and very slowly start counting up. _First time was weed. Second time was also weed. Third time because someone saw me tagging, fourth was petty thievery..._ You stop when you get to seven.

“Just stupid shit mostly, you know, some drugs,” you tell him, waggling your fingers. “Why, is there a problem?”

He stares at you for several seconds, well, you don’t think he’s really looking at _you_ , it’s more like he’s looking _through_ you. It’s kinda creepy?

“nah. no problem, kiddo.” Sans says finally. “thanks for _patella_ ing me the truth.”

…

Did he fucking just.                              

“I am so mad that I’m currently not allowed to leave the couch,” you groan into your hands. “That was the worst goddamn joke I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

“i dunno, i thought it was pretty _humerus_.” He winks at you.

“Holy shit, stop.”

“SANS!” Papyrus screeches from the kitchen, “I CAN HEAR YOUR PUNS FROM IN HERE! PLEASE REFRAIN FROM ANTAGONIZING THE HUMAN!” He sounds almost scandalized.

“c’mon, bro, i’m just trying _tibia_ good host.”

Papyrus makes an exasperated sound but otherwise doesn't respond. You hear plates clambering, and what you think is water boiling over, from where he's working.

“Should I be concerned?” you ask to no one in particular.

“he's fine. don’t worry, buddy.”

The two of you sit in silence, and after a while you think he falls asleep. It _looks_ like it, but it also feels like he’s still watching you, and you try to ignore the anxiety it’s giving you.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, thank you god for the distraction.

 

 **From: jazmine** \- I have your damn bike. If you got arrested again I’m gonna break your fucking legs.

 **From: jazmine** \- Tell me where you are, because if you aren’t home by 9 I’m coming to get you.

 **From: nicholas -** you better come home safe, cuz I’m not paying your bail again!!!

 

You cringe slightly at the first texts. Great, you definitely weren’t looking forward to the Wrath of Jazmine when you returned, nor do you really want to expose anybody else to her rage. It’s _scary._  

Nick can fuck off, though.

 

 **To: nicholas -** I already paid you back for that jackass

 **To: nicholas -** stop being so salty

 **To: jazmine** \- sorry mom :(

 **To: jazmine** \- I’m at cleveland and hamilton, near the park, big two story house like third in the row from the first left on cleveland

 **To: jazmine** \- not sure when I’ll be home, but please do not bring guns

 

The last time Jaz “came to get someone”, she had a freaking shotgun and like two magnums with her. And it was Nick, who had only been at a Starbucks with some girl. Guess who didn’t get a second date.

 

 **From: jazmine** \- Thank you.

 **From: nicholas -** :^)

 **From: nicholas -** love you sheena

 

“THE FOOD IS READY!” Papyrus hollers, removing your attention from your phone. “SANS, PLEASE TAKE THE HUMAN AND YOURSELF TO THE DINING ROOM!”

Sans yawns and doesn’t open his eyes. “okay.”

“...Are you going to actually move?”

He shrugs and sinks further into the couch.

Okay, you guess you could just...leave him there? “I’ll uh, find it by myself then.” Yeah. You get up awkwardly, a little worried you might just fucking burst into flames.

Fortunately, you don’t.

________________________

 

Brunch was surprisingly good (and it wasn’t _you_ , so that was also good), albeit a bit uncomfortable. Papyrus was annoyed that you had came in alone, and he had dragged Sans - and you mean literally drag, the guy was dead weight on the floor - to the table, and Sans just kinda made his food disappear, like, you didn’t really see him eat it but it was gone in about three seconds. And Papyrus apparently doesn’t eat the food he makes, and pretty much stared at you the entire time, like he takes some sort of perverse pleasure in it. It was sort of frightening, but also kinda cute? You don’t even know anymore.

Pretty much the minute you finish, Papyrus drags you back to the living room, and Sans - oh he’s asleep again. Papyrus sits down with you on the couch and angles his body toward you, a very serious look beginning to form on his face.

“DO NOT TAKE OFFENSE TO THIS, BUT YOUR MANNERS ARE VERY LACKLUSTER! SO THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS TAKING IT UPON HIMSELF YOU ASSIST YOU! I’M GOING TO GIVE YOU SOME SCENARIOS AND I WANT YOU TO TELL ME HOW YOU’D REACT.”

Is this a fucking psychologist appointment? Is he your shrink now? “I don’t understand why we’re doing this.”

He ignores your question. “SO, YOU’RE WALKING DOWN THE STREET! AND SOMEBODY TELLS YOU THAT THEY THINK YOUR SHIRT IS VERY LAME.”

“I’d tell them to fuck off?”

“NO! THAT’S TERRIBLE! I’M GIVING YOU NEGATIVE POINTS.”

“Points? Is this a goddamn test or something?”

“SWEARING ONLY DETRACTS FROM YOUR SCORE! I WOULD ADVISE YOU TO STOP DOING THAT.”

You make a distressed sound and play with the fabric on your jacket. “I... _fuck_! I don’t think I even know how!”

“I HEAR WASHING YOUR MOUTH WITH SOAP HELPS.”

“I am so totally _not_ doing that.”

“THEN TRY HARDER! I BELIEVE IN YOU! NEXT QUESTION.”

He takes a deep breath, and then launches into his next speech. “YOU ARE WALKING DOWN A STREET AGAIN, EXCEPT THIS TIME IT IS VERY CROWDED! ANOTHER HUMAN BUMPS INTO YOU AND MAKES YOU SPILL YOUR VERY TASTY DARK CHOCOLATE TRUFFLE MOCHA ALL OVER YOUR COOL CLOTHES! THEY ARE PERMANENTLY STAINED BY YOUR DELICIOUS HEATED DRINK, NEVER FIT TO BE WORN AGAIN.”

“Well, after I’m done _screaming in pain_...I’d probably punch them in the face?”

Papyrus makes a very loud, incredibly dramatic sigh. “SHEENA! YOUR ANSWERS ARE DEFEATING THE PURPOSE OF THIS EXERCISE! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO TRY NOT TO BE ABSOLUTELY UNPLEASANT!”

“They fu-freaking scalded me with coffee, that _I_ bought! Why would I not punch him?”

“BECAUSE IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! THEY DID NOT MEAN YOU HARM! YOU DO NOT HAVE TO FIGHT INNOCENT PEOPLE!”

“I don’t see how this is relevant to the fact that I fought someone who was actually maliciously screaming at you?”

“PERHAPS SOMEONE DOES A TERRIBLE THING, BUT THAT DOES NOT MAKE THEM COMPLETELY BAD! YOU HAVE TO LEARN HOW TO FORGIVE THOSE PEOPLE WHO MAKE MISTAKES, AND BELIEVE THEY CAN DO BETTER IN THE FUTURE!”

You kinda feel like you just got slammed in the gut. _Fuck._ “...alright, Papyrus. I’ll try.”

He beams at you. “GOOD! NOW, YOU ARE WATCHING A MOVIE IN THE THEATRE! BUT NOT JUST ANY MOVIE! IT IS THE NEWEST AND VERY COOL DISNEY MOVIE ZOOTOPIA! WHICH YOU HAVE BEEN EXCITED TO WATCH FOR MONTHS! BUT THERE IS A VERY RUDE HUMAN BEHIND YOU WHO KEEPS TALKING AND RUINING YOUR EPIC CINEMATIC EXPERIENCE!”

You put a hand on your chin and consider your words very carefully. “I would...turn around...and, um, ask them to stop talking?”

“YES! BUT HOW?”

“Firmly?”

“NOT QUITE!”

“...politely?”

Papyrus looks at you like you just discovered the cure for cancer or something. “WONDERFUL! SHEENA, YOU’RE OFF TO A GREAT START!”

He nearly demands that the two of you continue for a while, and you humor him. It’s actually kind of nice, all the positivity. Certainly different than your doom and gloom household: The Fantastic Four except with a bunch of fucking punk jackasses.

It’s around three in the afternoon when you tell Papyrus that you have to go. Even though Jazmine said nine, you _know_ she’s going to start to get antsy way before then. Your mommy loves you very much, and you appreciate it, but she’s also way too clingy.

Papyrus gives you the most rib-crushing hug you have ever received in your entire life. You feel significantly flatter afterward. “LET ME GIVE YOU MY NUMBER BEFORE YOU GO! AS YOUR VERY COOL NEW FRIEND, I INSIST!”

You hand him your phone so he can add it himself, and you laugh a bit at how he put his contact name in all caps. He even writes loudly, apparently. You also try to say goodbye to Sans before you leave, but he’s buried in a book and pointedly ignores you. The author sticks out to you - Lillian Descoteaux. Not a fan, but to each their own, you guess. Maybe you can talk to him about it if you see him again.

It’s good weather out, and the walk home is pleasant, even if the silence seems weird now. It was a strange day, but it wasn’t bad. You had a good time. You feel....like you learned something.  

You’ll definitely have to re-do that shopping trip tomorrow morning, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I originally had little emoticons next to the contact names when Sheena was texting, but the Archive doesn't let me do that and now I'm sad. but if you want to know, Tommy had the poop emoji, Jaz was a lightning bolt and Nick had a credit card.
> 
> anyway I had a little extra scene in here but it didn't really fit in the chapter itself, so have a bonus:
> 
> _____
> 
> Sans would be nice to you, for Papyrus’s sake, but that didn’t mean he had to trust you. Everything about you screamed danger to him, from your attitude, to the casual violence you apparently committed.
> 
> He _wants_ to like you, if only because Papyrus seems to like you so much. Buried within you, perhaps there could be a glimmer of a good person. He would have to witness them, first, and then maybe he would retract his previous judgement.
> 
> Of all the hundreds, maybe thousands, of humans Sans has encountered on the surface, most were not above LVL 1, let alone LVL 5, like you.
> 
> It concerned him. It _more_ than concerned him. Perhaps there was a reason, an explanation that was not as terrible as he imagined. It could have been self defence, but he doesn’t know; he wasn’t around to see it.
> 
> But Sans _does_ know he will always do his very best to protect his brother, even if it's from those Papyrus may call friend.
> 
> \---
> 
> if you're reading I love you. stay beautiful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it _is_ written, but in case you don't catch it. this chapter takes place around four months after the last one.

_The room has a stoic atmosphere, but you ignore it, marching your way to where you know your best friend will be. You’re so excited, and you can’t quite articulate why. It just feels like your spirits are soaring, which is a weird fucking feeling for you._

_You spot him right where he always is. He’s running a hand through his hair while he’s watching the TV, a sour look on his face. You decide to ignore it._

_“Hey Boss, did you hear the news?” You ask, obvious pleasure laced throughout your voice. Monsters are real and they’re on the surface - finally overcoming the apparent injustice thrust on them years and years ago. You find it inspiring in a strange way._

_You hear a heavy sigh. Tyler turns and grimaces, nodding his head. “Yeah, pretty fucked up, isn’t it?”_

_Fucked...up? Tyler, your best friend, who always admired your lust for equality, thinks this is messed up? “What do you mean, dude? Aren’t you -”_

_“Sheena,” he interrupts roughly, giving you an exasperated look. “You need to wipe that smile off your face. It’ll give the others the wrong impression.”_

_“...yessir,” you reply quietly, uncharacteristically humbled, swallowing a lump in your throat that wasn’t there before._

_“It’s not good,” he says firmly, not as your friend, but as the boss of the Bulldogs. “They’re fucking freaks, Sheena, they don’t belong up here with us. So we gotta deal with the problem.”_

_Your heart sinks. You didn’t think Tyler would think like that. Maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought._

_“So what do you mean by dealing?” You ask, although you're not sure if you want to hear the answer._

_Tyler laughs darkly, and walks past you toward the door. You look over your shoulder at him, and he shrugs. “I’ll guess you’ll find out when I talk to the rest of the boys.”_

________________

You glance down at your phone screen and frown, fingers toying with the case. It's blinking, signifying you have a message, but you don't want to answer it. The memories of your old gang never fail to make you feel like shit. You just want to crawl back into bed and try to sleep the guilt away.

The phone vibrates again and you sigh. Papyrus has been incredibly enthusiastic about being your friend over the past few months, and you don’t deserve it. He's so patient and compassionate in contrast to your recklessness and abrasiveness, and it _irritates_ you that he puts up with your shit. You think you should really tell him about the kind of person he’s choosing to hang out with. He can do so, so much better than a fuckup like you.

This time your ringtone goes off, and you let it play out for several seconds before you give in and answer it. “What do you want?” you answer, and you make your voice sound grumpy and a little venomous. It doesn’t matter anymore. _Stay away from me._

Papyrus doesn’t sound fazed. “SHEENA? ARE YOU OKAY? I’VE BEEN TRYING TO CONTACT YOU FOR LIKE TWO HOURS NOW!”

“Sorry, Paps, I’m not feeling really well today. Think I’ll just stay in.” _Delete my number. Leave me alone._

“OH…” He sounds deflated. “DO YOU WANT ME TO BRING YOU SOMETHING?”

 _You piece of shit. All you do is disappoint._ “Thanks, but there’s no need. I just gotta get some sleep. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

You hang up and toss the phone somewhere in the corner of your room, somewhere you don’t have to look at the damn thing. The bed looks incredibly inviting right now. You contemplate screaming into the pillow.

  


After all these years living with his brother, it’s easy for Papyrus to tell when someone’s in pain. He wishes you would let him help you.

________________

_“Now, new meat, we’ll show you what a real Bulldog looks like. Sheena, you have the honors. Get rid of this scum.”_

_Tyler grins at you and you feel like you’re going to throw up. Everybody is staring at you expectantly, various degrees of excitement strewn across their faces. You hate it._

_You nervously twirl the knife in your hands, feeling awfully sorry for yourself. The caged monster - the target, the example - looks at you pleadingly, and you feel your insides twist and crush you. You couldn’t understand why Tyler wanted this to happen._

_Tyler was clearly growing impatient watching you drag out his orders, so he decides to give you some incentive. “Sheena, buddy. You’ve been in this gang long enough to know what happens when you disobey the boss.” Yes. You do. They are not good things. “So unless you want that to happen, I’d get on with it, if I were you.”_

_You can’t fight him. You can’t stop this. You don’t want to kill, but you don’t want to die. Why do you have to make this fucking choice? You wish you could turn back time. Bowing your head, you relent._

_The little monster looks terrified, but your eyes are dead behind them. You part your lips to mouth an apology, but shut them. Best not to show any empathy. It will only make this harder._

_Your arm swings, but you only do one damage. So you swing again. And again. And again. Until the Bulldog’s cheers make your ears ring._

_The dust stains your clothes and your hands and your vision and your brain and no matter where you go you can feel it; it haunts you. It’s painted on you, it’s pinned on you like a badge, and it’s unwashable, irremovable. The killing becomes easier but the layers only get thicker, adding and multiplying and drowning you, suffocating you. It’s stained into your knife, it seeps into your skin, turning you grey and dark and wrong and dead._

_You gained LOVE, but you gained hate. You hated yourself, you hated Tyler, you hated the entire goddamn gang, and what you hated the most was the fact that you thought you chose murder over suicide but you actually chose both._

_You’d give anything to go back and pick the right choice instead._

________________

Jazmine bangs on your door loudly, and you groan, rolling over so you can sit upright in bed. “Come in,” you call groggily, and the door bursts open immediately. Jaz strolls in and takes one look at you, and decides to close it quieter behind her.

“You look like shit,” Jazmine says softly, walking over to sit on the bed with you. “What’s eating you?”

“You know. The usual,” you reply flatly. “I don’t think it will ever go away.”

She smiles sadly and shakes her head. “No. It won’t.” Jaz pauses, then side eyes you. “Is this about that monster you’ve been spending time with?”

“Kinda,” you breathe, running a hand through your hair. “Well. Yeah.”

Jaz touches your arm and closes her eyes for a few seconds to consider her words, then exhales. “You and me, we’ve made a lot of mistakes. Done a lot of fucked up things in our lives. It’s gonna stay with you. But, you can’t let it stop you from living your life, man. I’ve told you this a thousand times - you didn’t do those things by choice. You aren’t a murderer, Sheena, you’ve got to let the Bulldogs go. Living your life in guilt, that’s giving them power. So you gotta say ‘fuck them’ and knock it off, ‘cuz they don’t deserve jackshit from you. ‘Ight?”

“Jaz…” you murmur, “why do you put up with us?”

“‘Cuz I don’t want you guys to end up like me - angry and bitter, explosive as fuck. You’re young. You can do better than I did.” Jaz rubs the arm she’s touching then slaps you on the back. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh.

“Now, go take a walk or something, dude. You need some fresh air.”

________________

It’s getting dark out by the time you decide to take Jazmine’s advice, and it’s definitely nice. You can’t recall the last time you just...took a stroll, emptied your mind, and enjoyed the scenery. You end up in a dingy part of town - little beat up, but the shops are still good - and elect to stop by a café; you’ve had a shitty day, so splurging on yourself doesn’t seem like a bad idea. It’s a little hole-in-the-wall, but well taken care of. The food is really good and you feel significantly happier.

It’s around nine in the evening by the time you head home. There’s nobody around, and the streets are pretty empty. It’s very peaceful; what leftover anxiety you possess is slowly slipping away. _Maybe this day won’t end as bad as it began,_ you think,

but that’s when everything goes to absolute shit.

“Hey, look who it is!” someone yells from behind you - a familiar, gruff voice - and your blood freezes. “Just who we were searching for.”

All your nerves quickly flood back, overwhelming you. _Oh god. Why is this happening? This can’t be freaking happening._ You search desperately for a way to escape - _he’s gotta have RJ with him, that guy can run laps around you, there’s no point_ -

“I’m talking to you, jackass!” Tyler snarls, and you hear him stalking up closer, but your legs are frozen - “It’s been a long time. You fucking traitor.” Traitor is a funny word coming from him.

“Get the fuck away from me!” you scream - you need to move, but you can’t - what can you do? You could call someone. You fish your phone out of your pocket and dial the first number you can find.

Tyler’s right behind you now - he smacks the phone out of your hands and it clatters to the ground. “Don’t even think about it. We’re gonna make you pay real good. Just Bulldog business, no outside help this time.”

This is not the right day for this.

  


Papyrus, of course, picks up on the second ring. “HELLO, SHEENA! ARE YOU FEELING BETTER?”

There's nothing but white noise in reply, and he furrows his non-existent brows. “...ARE YOU THERE?”

He waits for _something_ , and he happens to hear distant yelling in the background; he can’t make out the words, but someone sounds terrified, and _was that a gunshot?_ Well, he’s never been _around_ a gun, but he’s pretty sure that’s what one sounds like. Papyrus is immediately concerned.

He ends the call and dials the “emergency contact” that you had apparently been forced to give him shortly after the two of you met. She answers in _one_ ring, because Papyrus has never called her before, and that fact tips her off - _something is wrong._ Her tone is already furious.

“JAZMINE! HELLO - PLEASE CALM DOWN. YES, THIS ABOUT SHEENA! NO, I DO NOT KNOW WHERE THEY ARE. THAT’S WHY I’M CALLING YOU.”

  


Your self-preservation instincts had resorted to violence. The gunshot didn’t hit you, but it certainly stopped you from fighting back. You only keep a knife on you, and there’s no sense in bringing it to a gunfight, as they say.

“Did you think you could hide forever, Sheena?” Tyler laughs, his fingers gripping painfully on your arm, dragging you off into an alley. RJ walks behind you, a wooden bat balanced on his shoulder, playing the threatening bodyguard. What a kiss-ass.

“I mean, kinda,” you quip back, “when I knew you, you couldn’t even recognize the girl you were sleeping with for like five months.”

Keeping your mouth shut is hard. He slaps you forcibly, and you bite your lip from the pain. “If another smart comment comes from that trap of yours, I’ll rip it off,” he snarls.

**30 / 36 HP remaining.**

Tyler tries so fucking hard to be a tough guy. You want to roll your eyes, but you’re at a disadvantage here, so you refrain. Guess your brain has gone from “holy shit I’m gonna piss myself” to “this is a fucking joke” pretty quick. .

He pins you up against a wall in the back of the alley, unholstering his pistol shortly after. Tyler puts the gun up to your head and raises his eyebrows all smugly, like a jackass. “You live a Bulldog, you die a Bulldog,” he recites. “Those are the rules.”

“Good thing I’m not a fucking Bulldog,” you sneer, and kick him in the balls.

You’re so very, very lucky his fingers _release_ the gun rather than pull the trigger on instinct.Tyler was never that good at fighting. You grab your knife, since you disarmed him, and throw him on the ground, ready to slit his good for nothing throat. _Gods,_ you’ve _dreamed_ of this moment. RJ’s probably about to pitch your head off, but you don’t care, you’re so close, you just gotta -

**_“STOP!”_ **

It’s not a command, it’s a _roar_ , and it’s loud and powerful and it makes your ears ring. Papyrus is a threatening tower of bones, his expression equal parts furious, solemn, and terrified; his eyes blazing with magic, one of his hands holding your discarded phone tightly, the other clenched into a fist. He looks at you cautiously. Apprehensively.

‘“SHEENA.” Papyrus’s tone is calm and controlled. “PUT THE KNIFE DOWN.”

All of a sudden, you’re _furious_ \- how dare he give you that bullshit now, when you have the man who’s killed a hundred monsters, whose ordered the deaths of a hundred more? The man who made you a murderer, who destroyed your life and your soul? You could end it all, all the years and years of needless suffering; you could put all of those ghosts to rest. It’s what the _good guy_ would do. It would be _right_.

“SHEENA,” he orders you again, his voice firmer. “DO NOT HARM THAT MAN. DISARM YOURSELF AND WALK AWAY.”

You’re about to respond, to _scream_ at him, when you’re roughly shoved toward the ground, knife falling from your grasp. Your skull smashes on the concrete and you groan in pain. RJ laughs, and Tyler, recuperating,  grabs the weapon before you can think about it, and stands over you, a cruel expression on his face.

**20 / 36 HP remaining.**

“Thanks for giving us an opening,” he drawls, “but I have an idea to make this even more interesting.”

Tyler starts off toward Papyrus and the only thing you feel is terror. They can fuck with you all they want, but they _cannot_ mess with Papyrus. _Come on, get up, get up!_ You’re dizzy and your head is pounding, but you manage to get on your knees.

Papyrus regards Tyler flatly, any amount of fear absent from his eyes. “THAT GOES FOR YOU TOO, OTHER HUMAN. YOU NEED TO STOP.”

“Why should I? More importantly, why should I listen to a piece of shit like you?” He stalks ever closer. Papyrus holds his ground. _Why isn’t he running?_

You finally manage to get on your feet. God, everything hurts. You spot Tyler’s gun on the ground. Maybe you could -

“EVERYONE CAN BE A BETTER PERSON IF THEY TRY. PLEASE RECONSIDER YOUR ACTIONS. I BELIEVE THAT YOU CAN DO THE RIGHT THING!”

No.

 _Goddammit._ Everything hurts, but you start running. You won’t let Tyler hurt Papyrus, but you won’t let Papyrus down, either.

RJ goes to intercept you, swinging his bat deftly. It hits you square in the back and you falter slightly, wheezing, but keep moving.

**13 / 36 HP remaining.**

Papyrus’s expression is still frightfully blank. Tyler’s arm muscles flex. Your legs are fucking jelly, but you need to go faster.

RJ’s quick, and he’ll probably catch up to you, but you’re determined. The glimmer of the knife dances in your vision. You keep going.

_I won’t kill, like you want me to. I’m better than that, now._

You shove Papyrus out of the way and the knife digs deep in the flesh of your stomach, the pain white hot but deliciously relieving. The pain is all you can register, but your only instinct is to laugh.

_Fuck you, Tyler._

**1 / 36 HP remaining.**

Everything goes black.

  


Papyrus barely registers the blaring sound of motorcycles. All he can focus on is that fact that you’re not moving. There’s so much blood.

“ _Get the fuck away from my kid before I blow your goddamn brains out!_ ” That he does hear. Jazmine, and your other friends Nick and Tommy screech onto the scene, armed to the teeth. Jaz does not look happy, and she cocks her shotgun threateningly, pointing it at Tyler, who looks at her wide-eyed.  

“Close your eyes, kiddos,” she spits, “It’s about to get fucking _messy._ ”

Papyrus is about to say something, but Tommy cuts him off, tossing him the keys to your bike. They came with all three. “Sheena taught you how to ride a couple weeks back, yeah? Think you can get them out of here?”

Yes. Out. That sounds very good. “OF COURSE! THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL ENSURE NO FURTHER HARM COMES TO THEM!”

He cradles your body tenderly, and uses a bit of healing magic to stabilize you. He won’t be able to fix the whole thing himself, no, he’ll have to take you to the hospital. Papyrus carries you to the motorcycle and carefully loads you in after himself, making sure your arms are wrapped around his middle. There’s only one helmet, so he puts it on you. He’ll be fine.

He rides one handed, keeping the other entwined in yours.

________________

You wake up to annoying beeping and the smell of sterilization. Ugh, fucking hospitals. You haven’t been to one since...a long time, actually.

Papyrus is there, and you immediately feel _bad._ Like, Jesus, that was a complete crock of shit, you can’t even imagine what he must be thinking right now. And he’s _still_ here? What would it ever take to get rid of this guy? A nuclear explosion?

You sit up a little - oh, damn that hurts, _whew_ let’s not do that again. You glance at Papyrus, who looks delighted.

“HOW ARE YOU FEELING, SHEENA?”

“Um, not great? But I’m not dead, so I guess I can’t complain. Jazmine not here?” you ask, a little surprised. You thought she’d be breathing down your neck right about now.

“SHE WAS, WITH YOUR OTHER FRIENDS, BUT THEY HAD TO GO HOME. TO SLEEP. IT’S THREE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING.”

“Oh. Why aren’t you. Doing the sleeping thing?”

“WHY SLEEP WHEN YOU CAN DO SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE INSTEAD? THAT’S MY MOTTO! OR AT LEAST ONE OF THEM.”

You laugh a little and grimace - ouch, that hurts too, _fuck me._ Papyrus fishes out one of your hands so he can grab it, which is um, really adorable. This guy is going to be the death of you. Absolute slayer.

“JUST REST, SHEENA. YOU DESERVE IT. I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!”

“Of what, exactly? I nearly killed someone.” _Again._ You sink under the covers, feeling even worse. Is it possible for you to just disappear?

Papyrus sighs and rubs circles in your palm. “YOU REALLY WANTED TO HURT HIM, BUT YOU IGNORED YOUR VIOLENT IMPULSES AND DID THE RIGHT THING INSTEAD. THAT'S SOMETHING TO BE PROUD OF!”

Ah, hell. You’ve been leading him on for too long. “Papyrus…” you take a deep breath. Might as well get it over with. “You don't understand, like, you really shouldn’t be proud of me. I’m...I've killed people before. I have EXP, as in, execution points. A lot of them...” Boom, there it is. _Cue horror and rejection in three...two...one…_

“I KNOW.”

You balk in surprise. _What? Why would he ever...“_ You...know? But then...”

“ALL MONSTERS CAN SEE HUMAN SOULS,” Papyrus explains. “YOU’RE LVL 5. I KNEW YOU WERE WHEN WE FIRST MET.”

“They why did you…?”

“YOU MIGHT HAVE BEEN ACTING REALLY RUDE, BUT YOU WERE ALSO BEING COMPASSIONATE! KIND OF. IN YOUR OWN...BAD...WAY. BUT YOU WERE! JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE SEEMS ROUGH ON THE SURFACE DOES NOT MEAN ALL THEIR QUALITIES ARE BAD. YOU JUST HAVE TO DIG A LITTLE DEEPER!” He pauses, and then adds: “I WANTED TO HELP YOU. YOU SEEMED...LIKE YOU REALLY NEEDED A FRIEND.”

He's beaming at you, just emitting that constant ray of sunshine, that you _love_ , you realize. Something in you stirs. Has he always been this beautiful? “Well…” you begin, suddenly feeling bashful - when the hell do you ever feel _bashful_ \- “I'm glad you did. Papyrus.”

“ME TOO,” he replies softly, somehow smiling even _brighter_ , and you _never_ want him to stop looking at you like; you'd get stabbed a thousand more fucking times if it meant you could keep him. You feel so selfish - God, you don't deserve him, but you _want_ him, you _need_ him to stay, to give you that strength you never knew you had.

“Please don't go,” you croak, and he obliges; you wake up the next morning to Papyrus in the same, probably uncomfortable chair, half-asleep, hand still wound firmly in yours. The sight makes you want to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the angst train is done. it's over. no more. I promise. next chapter is 100% pure fluff. 
> 
> buuuut here's some bonus angst ~~because I'm a terrible person~~ if you like that kind of thing I guess.
> 
> ___________
> 
> (ALTERNATE TIMELINE)
> 
> Tyler starts off toward Papyrus and the only thing you feel is terror. They can fuck with you all they want, but they cannot mess with Papyrus. _Come on, get up, get up!_ You’re dizzy and your head is pounding, but you manage to get on your knees.
> 
> Papyrus regards Tyler flatly, any amount of fear absent from his eyes. “THAT GOES FOR YOU TOO, OTHER HUMAN. YOU NEED TO STOP.”
> 
> “Why should I? More importantly, why should I listen to a piece of shit like you?” He stalks ever closer. Papyrus holds his ground. _Why isn’t he running?_
> 
> You finally manage to get on your feet. God, everything hurts. You spot Tyler’s gun on the ground. Maybe you could grab it.
> 
> RJ notices your train of vision and sneers, brandishing his bat in your direction. You register Papyrus say something else but you don’t hear him, focusing instead on your target. _I need this. This is how I’ll save everyone. There’s no other way._
> 
> You grab the pistol just as RJ swings at you, the bat nailing you straight in the gut. You hunch over in pain, wheezing, but don’t release your grip. 
> 
> **13 / 36 HP remaining.**
> 
> RJ starts to swing again, but you quickly aim your weapon and pull the trigger - the bullet doesn’t hit him, but whizzes a few inches from his face, and he jumps back violently, the force causing him to trip and fall to his knees. You kick him for good measure, and he groans loudly.
> 
> You turn back toward Tyler and Papyrus, and _oh no dear Jesus._ He’s already - the knife’s - Papyrus - it’s…
> 
>  _Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!_ Your vision clouds red, and the only thing you can think about is how much you want to kill Tyler. He’s not paying attention to you. You fire. He falls over. Red. There’s so much red. 
> 
> **Your LOVE increased.**
> 
> You run over to Papyrus. You can’t feel your legs. You can’t feel anything. The gun is gone from your hands; you don’t even know where it went. You don’t care. Papyrus is staring at the gash in his chest. There’s dust flaking from his bones. You CHECK him -
> 
> **0/680 HP. 5 ATK. 5 DEF.**
> 
> _No._
> 
> “W-WELL, THAT’S NOT WHAT I EXPECTED,” he says, to you? To no one? “I THOUGHT...AFTER EVERYTHING...THAT MAYBE YOU’D CHANGED.” To you.
> 
> “BUT...ST-STILL! I BELIEVE IN YOU! YOU CAN DO A LITTLE BETTER! EVEN IF YOU DON’T THINK SO!” You’re hugging him tightly. He’s coming apart in your arms. _Please don’t go. I’m sorry. I need you, I need you, I need you..._
> 
> Papyrus hugs you back, sighing quietly. _Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me._ He rests his forehead on yours. “I...PROMISE…” _I’m sorry. I’m sorry._
> 
> Dust. There’s so much dust. It clings to you, it’s stained to you. You never know just how much you _love_ something until you lose it.
> 
> You’d give anything to go back and pick the right choice instead.
> 
> ___________
> 
> sorry not sorry :^)


End file.
